


Devotion

by CoyoteGhost



Series: Devotion [10]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Asphyxiation, Blood and Gore, Choking, Emotional Hurt, Heavy Angst, Jesse isn’t present for Uprising, M/M, Mental Instability, Poor Jesse, Reaper and Gabriel are separate entities, Slight Canon Divergence, hurt and no comfort, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 22:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17948747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteGhost/pseuds/CoyoteGhost
Summary: As his world burns all around him, Jesse finally realizes that everything he and Gabriel built, everything they had made Blackwatch into, has truly come to an end.OrThe final test of devotion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s time to end this
> 
> Tbh I’m a bit emotional about this??? Like I think I’m just hella sensitive rn, but like this has been my baby for almost half a year, I believe. AND NOW I MUST END IT. 
> 
> Enjoy your suffering, suckers XD

_With devotion’s visage and pious action we do sugar o’er the devil himself._

Thomas Fuller

 

——— 

 

 

If Jesse found himself once again drowning in his own thoughts (an easy feat), he swore that he could feel the wind that rolled off the cold waters in Rialto, brushing against his face. He could recall how it shifted through his hair like a tender hand, flowing in through the broken window and clinging to him like a lover. He knew it very well, because once all of the air had been stolen from his lungs, the wind had flooded back in its place as he took in the world around him for the very last time.

 

Yes, Jesse had known as soon as the coldness had hit his flesh, his world had finally come to an end.

 

As he had fought for his life in Rialto’s streets, it was the curse of his conscious mind to know that they couldn’t outrun the consequences of Gabriel’s actions. Whether now or later, in blood or in judgement, they would pay. They all would. Like Gabriel himself had once said, nothing could ever pay the toll that retribution demanded. Jesse found he wholeheartedly agreed with that as his body was jostled around, caused when the Orca finally landing back in Zürich. And while he was thankful to return to base, the injuries he had amassed flared to life at the sudden movement.

 

He was sprawled out on the ground with his legs propped up, blood staining the cold metal floor, his uniform, the bags all around him. It tainted everything. He was overcome with the heat pulsing from his wounds and subsequent agony of his faintly beating heart. Jesse wouldn’t blame it if it gave out. He was overwhelmingly, utterly exhausted.

 

Gabriel was there beside him, despite the gore. His hands applied pressure to some of Jesse’s more dangerous wounds (there had been one shot straight to the gut, though Jesse believed that nothing vital was damaged beyond repair), and Jesse simply let him.

 

Really though, what was the alternative? If those hands moved away, they all knew what would more than likely happen. Gabriel could kill him right then and there if he wanted. The man probably would’ve if he didn’t hold such saintly patience when it came to Jesse. It was Jesse who had hissed out every venomous phrase he knew, every single accusation, while the others mostly kept silent; it was Jesse who had doubted Gabriel’s leadership, who had slammed his hand straight into the man’s shoulder (and truthfully, if they hadn’t been in a fight for their lives, he would’ve clocked Gabriel as well), only to yell in his face.

 

Now Jesse couldn’t summon his previous rage even if he tried - and he had certainly tried. It had dwindled into something nearing apathy when some Talon trooper (not heavy assault, not an assassin, not a sniper, but a fucking little _trooper_ ) had managed to shoot holes in his body like paper. The wrath had certainly slowed to a crawl after that, but Jesse had still had enough energy to tell Gabriel to go fuck himself as he forced his own lacerated body to walk unaided. He would do it without _anybody’s_ help, even if it killed him.

 

Shortly after, though, Jesse’s fire had been replaced by the fear of death. Well, he wasn’t necessarily afraid. He had been anticipating death for a very long time, waiting for its sweet kiss; whether it be gentle or violent, he would take it. The whole Antonio deal had simply made him acutely aware of his own mortality in ways that he hadn’t been in a good, long while. Gabriel didn’t seem to have that problem. When Jesse had accused him of putting all four of them on a path that would get them killed, Gabriel had fucking _scoffed_ at the indictment. He was offended that Jesse had even suggested something might happen.

 

That felt like a lifetime ago, and now Jesse couldn’t find the will to care about anything except the blood spilling past Gabriel’s hands. Whatever grounds they were on now, or might be on after Jesse recovered, would be shaky at the very least. Even so, he allowed Gabriel to hold his life in those steady, calloused hands, and he trusted the man to keep it there until someone else could.

 

Jesse _trusted_ Gabriel, honest he did, so he refused to believe it was only because he had to.

 

He tried to let that feeling solidify when Gabriel had asked Moira to heal him, but Jesse had vehemently refused. He would take Gabriel’s help, but he didn’t want hers. He didn’t _need_ it (he really knew, perhaps not so deep-down in his heart, that he did if he wanted to make it off the ship alive). He certainly didn’t like how his hands were stained and slick with crimson, nor did he like how it was smeared on the metal flooring like an abstract painting of silver and red, but he would rather die than let that woman touch him. At that point, though, Jesse doubted that she had any of the remaining resources required to heal him.

 

Gabriel knew that, but he had asked anyways. He nearly begged. Jesse desperately wanted to believe it was because Gabriel had his best interest at heart, just like the man had promised. He didn’t want to believe that he only needed Jesse alive for the sake of him being a valuable resource; that’s what it had sounded like during the mission. Still, it was Gabriel that had helped Jesse rise as the doors opened, eyes seemingly tender as the medical staff rushed to meet them when they walked out. The man was practically dragging him as he slung Jesse’s arm over his shoulder and moved as swiftly as he could. They couldn’t afford to waste time.

 

What a shame it was, that tenderness could do nothing for a mutilated body. Jesse could feel one of the embedded bullets scraping against his rib, another actually forced to the surface as Jesse doubled over. Gabriel muttered some quiet apology as he dug his fingers into the wound and threw the metal to the floor. The pain exploded into fire when Gabriel put pressure back down on the aggravated skin. Jesse’s own groans and cries reached his ears, but he hardly noticed them as he watched blood trickle through Gabriel’s harsh fingers. He felt his life quite literally drain from his body with every step.

 

Somewhere, in the darker recesses of his mind, Jesse remembered being younger, crueler, scared. Those times in his life had forced him to kill many people. He could recall how he had shot most of them, how his aim had been off and his young arms shaky, unused to holding a gun, and had watched people sink to their knees and curl up on the ground, moaning until their heart stopped beating.

 

The blood would always come too fast, their deaths too slow. It was agonizing to watch. Jesse supposed that this was the image Angela was seeing, because for the first time in a very long time, the poor woman looked mortified. She was scared, but Jesse didn’t blame her. He was, too.

 

He vaguely understood that she was yelling at people, seemingly going in order of who she was angriest at: Gabriel, Moira, some poor intern, and then Jesse himself, although her dread was palpable as she called him ‘McCree’ for the first time in years. All the same, any sentiments attached to the situation had fallen away as Angela’s hands moved to replace Gabriel’s (a futile task now that Jesse was standing up), and even that was quickly forgotten as Jesse was hoisted onto a rather uncomfortable stretcher. He wanted to say it was drastic, but he couldn’t really prove it otherwise.

 

“Don’t feel right,” he muttered to no one in particular. He felt a light pinch in his arm, and after a few seconds, his brain informed him that it was probably an IV. There was also a chance it was something else, or maybe nothing at all. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. His head felt like someone was beating on it with a hammer, but at the same time, his consciousness seemed to float slightly above the pain.

 

The lightness and agony both followed as Jesse felt his body moving. He knew he wasn’t walking, though. Confusion washed over him a moment later when he realized that he had forgotten they had put him on a stretcher.

 

How could that have slipped his mind? It had happened only a few seconds ago, right? And why did he feel so cold? Surely the building they were in had heat. Now that he thought about it, had he even left the drop ship? The ceiling (was it moving?) looked familiar, but all ceilings did when they were made of bland looking metal. Jesse knew that his team had been with him, he remembered seeing their faces as they hobbled into the Orca, but he couldn’t really remember coming back out. He needed answers. He wanted to know where he was, what he was doing. Didn’t he have a mission to do? Where was his commander?

 

Where was Gabriel?

 

Jesse heard talking off in the distance as he stared up at the ceiling, but everything sounded like it was underwater, like he was dunking his head in a bath to wash the blood away. He always closed his eyes when he did that. He didn’t like how the water felt, how it blurred his vision, and he really wanted to shut the water out. Still, something in his brain started to shriek at him to focus. But what on? He didn’t think that there was anything specific he needed to do. Maybe he would just try and stay awake?

 

“Yes, Jesse, stay awake for just a little while, okay?”

 

Had he spoken out loud? He didn’t really mean to. But where was he going? His stomach hurt. He was tired. He really wanted to go to bed. It was too cold.

 

“I know, Jesse, I know. We’ll get you a blanket. I’m going to fix your stomach, and then I promise you can sleep. Just keep talking to me, alright?” The soft voice’s encouragement sounded more desperate than reassuring.

 

Who was talking to him? Gabriel didn’t sound like that, and neither did Jack. Where was Jack? He wasn’t with him in... where had he been again? Didn’t matter. He was cold. He felt sick. His eyes hurt because now it was way too bright.

 

Jesse laughed as he finally let himself drown in the darkness. There might’ve been light up above him, but there was no fucking way he was going anywhere but Hell.

 

 

———

 

 

He was dying.

 

Angela might’ve stopped the bleeding, might’ve kept his insides from becoming outsides, but Jesse could feel the shitstorm happening outside of his door. Gabriel had fucked up, and now they were all going to die.

 

“Your heart rate is rising. You are getting _way_ too anxious, so stop thinking.”

 

Genji sat quietly in the corner of the room, faceplate off, playing on some game system that Jesse had never been able to have as a kid. Apparently a new game had come out while they had been in Rialto. Genji had said that he didn’t want anyone to bother him while he played, that the game required concentration and he knew Jesse wouldn’t bother him, but Jesse knew that this was only half-true. Genji only played the game when Jesse was awake, and when the man thought he was asleep, he put the system down and carefully watched the door. No one but Angela came through.

 

“I’m not anxious, I’m just antsy. Cabin fever or some shit,” Jesse told him. He didn’t miss the way Genji tensed as he watched Jesse rolled straight onto one of his wounds, hissing as he did so.

 

Jesse reveled slightly in the pain it brought him; internal injuries were so much more persistent than wounds more superficial. Especially without biotic fields. Angela was fretting over budget cuts, and Jesse had reassured her that she didn’t need to waste any on him unless he absolutely needed it.

 

And fuck, did he needed it, but he said nothing.

 

Some morbid mixture between a sob and a laugh escaped his lips as he pushed himself to sit at the edge of the bed.“I can’t stand being in here anymore. I’ve been laying in bed every day since we came back.”

 

“For good reason, Jesse. You-“

 

“I need to walk.”

 

Genji stared at him blankly, perhaps slightly incredulous, as he put his game system on the nearby counter. His piercing eyes watched Jesse carefully.

 

“Angela says you have the habit of wandering off, amongst other things. You need to-“

 

“I _need_ to _walk_.”

 

Jesse paid Genji no mind as he carefully pulled himself to stand on his feet. He let the burning of tearing sutures wash over him like a cleansing wave as he held himself up with the wall. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for pain. With shuddering gasps, Jesse went to pull at his dog tags, only to remember they were missing. Gabriel had them for the moment. He would’ve pulled on the bandana he once wore, but it was stuffed somewhere in his room, and while the thought of pulling his IV was tempting, he didn’t want to explain to Angela why he had ripped it out for the third time in two, nearly three weeks. He needed to do something, _anything_. He couldn’t even pace anymore.

 

The eternal dread of claustrophobia started to rise as Jesse’s breathing picked up, and his skin started to turn slick with sweat. Before he could help himself, his hand shakily danced across his scalp, and as Jesse let his head thump against the cold cement of the wall, his fingers tightened. He could hear his heart monitor picking up, though it could hardly compete with the blood thundering in his ears. He let his head go roughly against the wall another time. Harder, more determined. Jesse almost laughed at himself when he felt the warmth of a new wound. He was bleeding.

 

Pain kept him _alive_.

 

In a moment of mental discontent, he realized how affected he was by his twisted sense of irony; how horrible would it be for him to have survived exsanguination, only to have die from poor self-control? Jesse was absolutely sick of everything. He couldn’t tell Angela what was happening to him, couldn’t describe the things he heard when he _knew_ nobody was there, couldn’t even begin to explain his dread when sleep would overcome him, only for him to wake up to the sound of gunfire and an exploding heart monitor.

 

He couldn’t take it. He _couldn’t take it_.

 

Tears welled up in Jesse’s eyes as he slammed his head a third time, but instead of meeting the concrete, something softer was there to catch him. It stayed latched to the back of his skull until the threat of Jesse breaking himself had passed.

 

Outside of the incident in Somalia, he had never known Genji to intervene in such things.

 

Slowly, very slowly, the heart monitor went back into a somewhat normal state, and by the time it had, Jesse had slumped against Genji. The man simply let him. If it were any other situation, Jesse might’ve found the idea of Genji trying to comfort him funny, but as the flesh hand soothed over where he’d hurt himself, Jesse couldn’t help being anything but thankful.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He did nothing to stop the droplets threatening to fall from his lashes. “I just can’t- I don’t-“

 

Genji hushed him. Carefully, as if holding broken glass, he pulled away from Jesse and started to fiddle with all of the wires keeping him tethered to the room. As each and every one of them detached from his body, Jesse felt like chains had been taken away. He actually felt _free_. Perhaps, for the first time in a long time, he was, though he knew that it wouldn’t last. Whether Angela threw him back in or Blackwatch fell under, he would be put back into a small, dark cell until he lost his mind. Jesse wholly intended to relish every moment he was a free man.

 

He was thankful that Genji had helped him slip into scrubs instead of the practically lewd hospital gown (seriously, who thought it was a good idea to let his ass hang out?). Once he was changed and Genji had his faceplate back on, they went straight out the door, and the first steps outside of his room most certainly made him feel more alive. Though Genji had him by the arm for support, he felt the strongest he had been since coming home from Rialto.

 

He couldn’t help but eagerly pull his friend along as they walked down the halls of the ward. They wandered around the east wing, then to the break room, and Genji promised that when the sun came up (and if Angela didn’t skin them alive for leaving without her permission), he would take him to the courtyard.

 

“I spent a lot of my time out there when Angela would permit me,” Genji said, patiently leaning against the wall as Jesse caught his breath. “The flowers were blooming then, too. It was beautiful.”

 

Jesse smiled as he looked outside through the large glass doors. From what he could tell, the blossoming flowers _were_ beautiful. “I may just be a tad bit dull, but I think my little cactus is the prettiest thing in the world. Gives my room a little life when she flowers.”

 

Even though his faceplate muffled most sounds, Jesse could hear the quiet rumble of laughter spilling past Genji’s lips, and he couldn’t help but join in. He felt... good. Spending time with anyone in the past few years had been hard; Victor had left, Kara and Esme had submitted their resignations soon thereafter, and Bora had passed away. The only remaining members of the original Strike Team were Jonathan and himself. Having Genji around made him a little less lonely, and Jesse felt it was a mutual feeling.

 

Just as he was about to talk more on the plans for the next day, a familiar presence cleared his throat, and both Jesse and Genji nearly jumped out of their own skins.

 

“I’m sorry for scaring you both.” Nurse Hudson smiled his ever-gentle smile, though it seemed a little softer, a little fainter, when he looked at Jesse. “Commander Reyes has requested that you report to his office. Official business, he said.”

 

Jesse could read between the lines on that one; he really didn’t want to know why Hudson was silently apologizing.

 

Regardless, Jesse was thankful that his skin was already pale. If it hadn’t been, he was certain that all of the color would’ve drained from his body. What could Gabriel want? He had ignored Jesse for nearly three weeks, didn’t even ask for his post-mission report. To be fair, though, Jack and Ana had probably been ripping him a new one ever since they had come back from Rialto, and if Jesse remembered correctly, Gérard Lacroix had made an appearance early on as well.

 

This would be a painful experience. Fear-fueled anger rose up in Jesse’s throat like bile, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth as he started to hobble towards the entrance of the ward. He ignored Genji and Hudson’s fussing as he made a b-line for the elevator, unwilling to stop for fear of losing his nerve.

 

Fucking _great_. Gabriel would be in an absolutely _fantastic_ mood. Jesse smashed the elevator buttons more violently than he had any right to and leaned against the wall, catching his breath as he shot up closer to the appropriate floor. Gabriel probably just wanted to take his anger out on somebody that couldn’t fire him. Who better than Jesse, right? The worst he could do right now would be to fucking clock Gabriel, but he knew how weak he was, knew that a stiff wind could probably blow him down. Like Athena had once said, no physical conflicts.

 

It was really, _really_ hard to keep that commitment when the first face that greeted him in the hallway was Moira. She gave him a once-over before giving that horribly slimy smile of hers.

 

“Ah, if it isn’t Gabriel’s favorite little hound.You’re looking rather well, though shouldn’t you still be in your kennel? We wouldn’t want any more accidents.”

 

It took all of Jesse’s willpower to preserve his energy and not fight with her, because he knew he needed to save his fury for Gabriel. So, instead of even responding, he pushed past her and continued to hobble down the hallway; he only found relief when he heard the elevator doors close behind him. Jesse chose to keep his choice of descriptive words to himself as he slowly made his way to Gabriel’s office.

 

Truthfully, he should’ve slowed down, taken a breath, let his body ease up a bit instead of going all out, but Jesse slammed his palm down against the biometric lock with reckless abandon and pushed through the doors once they opened. It was a sudden barge, and when he looked to where he knew Gabriel’s desk would be, he saw the man staring straight at him. Jesse couldn’t rightly name whatever seemed to flare to life behind Gabriel’s eyes, but all the same, it made his anger-driven confidence drain away. He shrank back a bit as he quietly looked down at the floor.

 

Jesse felt eighteen again, coming into his boss’s office for the first time after having been in a fight or committing some other misdemeanor. The fear of being thrown in jail to rot was not easily forgotten.

 

“Come here, Jesse.”

 

It was not a request. It was a command.

 

Jesse curled in on himself a bit more as he slowly approached Gabriel’s desk, and he felt himself flinching, wanting to disappear, whenever he saw what Gabriel had been reading. Anemic skin made the flush on Jesse’s cheeks look practically scarlet, and knowing that his shame was visible made it grow even worse. He was certain that even his ears were red now.

 

“I was forwarded your medical report earlier today because the medical staff were concerned more than ususal. Want to tell me why they’ve reported you tearing the IV out of your arm twice? Or why they have to keep pumping you full of sedatives?”

 

The more Gabriel stared at him, waiting for an answer, the more Jesse hunched over and shrunk back. He looked absolutely everywhere but at the other man’s face. All the same, he could feel Gabriel’s patience waning at the sudden silence; he managed not to flinch too much when the man stood up from behind his desk.

 

Jesse nearly threw his head like he was prone to do when firm hands gripped his face, no doubt trying to redirect his gaze, but being shot honestly felt a lot better than having to do that. Jesse couldn’t avoid it forever, though. It was especially hard when one hand gently traced against his jaw, trailing down his throat until it found a comfortable spot at the base of his neck. If Gabriel wanted, he could choke the life out of Jesse; the man’s fingers easily fit around his neck, and nobody would stop him if he did. Instead, Gabriel simply let the hand rest there, his thumb forcefully pressing up against Jesse’s chin until his head was tipped all the way back. A very delicate position.

 

A muted noise slipped past Jesse’s lips when the calloused hand applied pressure to his throat, and though it was only a small amount, he felt himself shivering beneath the weight. The hand that had been at his face moved to the back of his head - right where his wound happened to be. Before he could stop himself, Jesse winced as Gabriel’s fingers scraped against the tender spot, and even hissed when the man gripped the hair above it. Against his better judgement, he let Gabriel pull his head back farther, exposing his throat even more.

 

“What did you do, Jesse?” Gabriel asked. His voice was too soft, too tender, to match up with his actions. As if to emphasize the dissonance, the hand around Jesse’s throat squeezed a little tighter.

 

Jesse didn’t answer. He didn’t dare try to speak up. His eyes had started to sting, vision blurred by pinpricks of tears, and his lips began to tremble as if he actually might start crying. He felt pathetic. Underneath Gabriel’s hand, he was nothing more than what Moira had called him; a favored mutt.

 

How many men had Gabriel’s hound killed? How many lives had he taken just because he had been commanded to, not because he actually had the need to? Jesse had stained his hands with innocent blood for this man, and what did he get in return? Fingers curling around his throat. That, and a rough shove so he would sit down in the chair Gabriel had in front of his desk. At least he felt like he could breathe now.

 

“‘Patient displays post-operative depression and is prone to outburst of extreme violence and physical aggression. Patient is therefore a threat to both staff and self’.” Jesse silently rubbed at his throat as Gabriel leaned against the edge of his desk, reading the paper that had been sent from the medical staff. He understood why Hudson had apologized now.

 

“‘Patient has been placed in seclusion to manage violence and self-destructive behaviors,’” Gabriel continued. “‘Staff members are advised to treat with caution, and should watch for worsening of symptoms or any sudden indications of cognitive disorders or psychosis’.”

 

“Are you done?” Jesse asked. His ashen cheeks had turned red from shame, but he allowed himself to believe it was anger. Anger could help him deal with accusations. “We’re used to me having shitty records as long as my fucking arm. You always sweep it under the rug, so I don’t see why you’re treating this any different.”

 

Gabriel glared at him so harshly that Jesse felt it might burn holes in his skin. Even still, he puffed out his chest as much as he could and leveled his eyes with Gabriel. Not a threat, just enough to push a few buttons.

 

“I’m treating this differently because we can’t afford to have you fuck up right now, Jesse,” Gabriel said. “We already have the UN up our asses, and-“

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now wait just a damn minute.” Jesse pushed himself out of the chair as he rose to meet Gabriel face-to-face, his skin truly turning red from rage this time. “What did you just say about _me_ fucking things up? _You’re_  the one who shot Antonio! You’re the whole fucking reason that we’re knee deep in shit to begin with, so don’t you _dare_  try and pin this on me!”

 

In all the time that Jesse had known Gabriel, had loved him, there had never been a time where he thought he wouldn’t be safe. Out in the field, even in Rialto, Gabriel had his back. Often times, Jesse wondered if the expectation of reliability could have negative consequences. It seemed like it would. When Gabriel’s hand closed around his throat for a second time - not to threaten, but with the legitimate intention to _kill_ \- he knew he would never need to wonder that again.

 

They had trained Jesse not to panic; they had trained everyone that way, because it was just a shitty fact that, at some point, they would all end up with someone trying to choke the life out of them. Despite that principle being forced into his mind, Jesse was beyond panicked. Hysteria overtook him as he felt his back crash into the edge of Gabriel’s desk, and the overwhelming surge of fear was enough to illicit a delayed response. With nowhere left to turn, Jesse started to fight.

 

Blunt nails tore viciously into Gabriel’s flesh, drawing blood and raking the skin until it was painfully raw, and when the man pushed him farther back onto the desk, Jesse followed the motion. When Gabriel tipped forward because of the suddenly leeway, it gave Jesse just enough room to kick once, twice, three times in rapid succession, a chance to gain a single breath of air. Only when Gabriel threatened to fully crush his throat was he forced to stop.

 

Jesse felt helpless. He was trapped, his thundering heart threatening to break his ribs as his blood raged in his veins, deafening him to his surroundings. The feeling only grew as darkness creeped from the corners of his vision. His lungs screamed for air. As his body slowly began to stop its thrashing and his vision continued to fade to black, Jesse was left only to stare at the face above him.

 

Oh, how he had loved Gabriel. Stupid fucking Gabriel.

 

Whether it was his youth or his own foolish nature, Jesse had once believed that Gabriel had loved him as well. How many days had they spent together, enjoying the peace and solace that such intimacy could provide? How many nights had they clung so tightly to one another, waiting for help on war-torn lands? _That_ was the man whom Jesse loved. He only wished to see him one more time, to have a parting memory worth dying for, and so he let himself surrender completely to the hands around his neck. Why struggle? He was only going to die anyways.

 

For a moment, all Jesse could see in Gabriel was an all-encompassing wrath, the same he had borne witness to from the very moment that they had stepped into Antonio’s office, but suddenly, something else flickered back to life. It stirred beneath the veil of rage, faint at first, but growing. Recognition passed through Gabriel’s eyes like he was truly seeing Jesse for the first time. Maybe he was. His eyes widened, _changed_ , mouth agape as he looked down at Jesse growing heavy and lifeless.

 

To Jesse, it seemed that Gabriel was completely and wholly shocked. He was prepared to release the neck he had trapped in a vice, but just as Jesse’s world started to fade to nothing, the pressure was removed so forcefully that it was enough to push even his own body off of the desk. He could breathe again.

 

Though his head had met the cold floor with a loud crack, his body curling up on its side, Jesse couldn’t even care; he only focused on the oxygen filling his lungs. He couldn’t hear anything, or if he could, it was covered by his wheezing gasps, his retching, the sound made raw and painful from his injuries. He could barely see. The only thing Jesse could make out was the flurry of black and blue.

 

Jack and Gabriel.

 

The blood rushing in his head still kept him from hearing or understanding much, but he could figure out what had probably happened from the way they screamed at one another. For reasons Jesse didn’t know (though he could guess it had to do with Rialto), Jack had come to Gabriel’s office, only to be greeted with the image of Gabriel almost killing his charge. Jesse could only assume that Jack had ripped Gabriel off of him. Truthfully, Jesse didn’t care who had done what or what the two of them were arguing about at the moment.

 

Though the world shifted in ways it shouldn’t have, Jesse forced his body to rise up from the ground, and as Jack and Gabriel started to push and shove at one another, he carefully edged his way to the door. He left as quietly as he could, but as soon as he was out into the hall, he let himself begin to retch and cough again. It sounded more like an animal wheezing after being hit by a car. Tears welled up in Jesse’s eyes as he practically hugged the wall, walking with weak, trembling steps as he made his way towards the elevator. As soon as the doors closed behind him, he slammed a fist against the first familiar-looking button and leaned against the wall.

 

He didn’t know where he was going. Honestly, he didn’t even care. Jesse’s lungs burned, his entire body screaming as it tried to take in all the air that it could. What the _hell_ had just happened? What was wrong with Gabriel? Nothing had made any fucking sense since they left Rialto. Hell, it didn’t even make sense when they were _in_ Rialto, and suddenly Gabriel fucking chokes him because he called the man out on all of his bullshit. Gabriel had never attacked him, and for him to do so now?

 

Jesse just needed a place to sit down. Aside from the fact that he had almost just died, something didn’t feel right inside of him. He would most certainly have to visit Angela again, get her to check back over his internal damage and make sure he hadn’t done anything too terrible to disrupt the healing process. Jesse needed to go to the ward anyways. His bed was there, his medicine, his comfort. Genji would probably be waiting for him, too. Still, his mind seemed to have different plans; the familiar button he had pushed was one that went straight down, below the ward but not far enough to reach the interrogation rooms. When the doors opened, he was met with a place that had only good memories.

 

The lounge was the only room that Jesse might put above the shooting range. It was there that he and his friends celebrated birthdays, drank for fun after successfully mission, or just fucked around when they finally allowed themselves to relax. This one in particular was unofficially claimed by Blackwatch. Jesse even had a couch that was designated just for him (and for Victor, whenever he had been around). As he barged through the doors of the lounge, Jesse made a b-line for said couch, and everybody that was on it automatically jumped to their feet; whether it was because they knew it was his or because he looked like he’d just crawled out of the grave, Jesse wasn’t sure. All he cared about was how soft the fabric was when it rubbed against his face.

 

It was deathly silent, and Jesse was certain that it wasn’t because he couldn’t hear this time. There was hardly even shuffling. Only quiet breathing and his own raspy gasps filled the empty air.

 

“Uh... Jesse? Are you- are you okay?”

 

Jesse braced his weak body as he pushed himself to sit up, groaning as he did so. It was Jonathan. The poor man looked almost painfully concerned, as if genuinely fearing for his friend’s life, and up until that point, it had hardly occurred to Jesse that he might’ve actually frightened the people in the room. He came in like a drunk man, clothed in hospital scrubs while wheezing like he’d been shot in the lung. No doubt he had bruises starting to form on his neck, and blood had stained his hands from the clawing. Jesse truly felt a bit guilty for having scared these people.

 

“I-“ Everybody gave him room as he broke into a bit of a coughing fit, though it was more wheezing than anything. Talking was going to be a bitch. His throat felt painfully dry and constricted, so instead of answering, he rasped out ‘water’ and hoped somebody would understand. Jesse was very glad that they did. Not a moment later, someone handed him a bottle of water.

 

“I’ll be fine.” He winced at the sound of his own voice, and drank more water in the hopes that it would help. “Just got a little... roughed up.”

 

Jonathan could read between the lines. Even if he couldn’t, he knew that Jesse could only be terribly wounded in such a way by very few people, and Gabriel was one of them. The guilty party was apparent.

 

Jesse watched as the rage kindled behind Jonathan’s remaining eye, and his face flushed with his anger. The force in which he ground his teeth was nearly audible.

 

“Reyes has no right to-“

 

“Shh. Not so loud, not here.”

 

“Who cares if they hear?” Jonathan asked, though he had lowered his voice to a whisper like Jesse’s. “Reyes has no right to hurt _anybody_ like that, least of all you.He’s just...”

 

Jonathan paused, and Jesse swore that he had never seen a man so overcome by rage and despair in equal proportions. His own heart ached in response. Just like Jesse had lost Victor, Jonathan had lost Esmeralda. They had both been alone for too long, and now they were both hurting, both betrayed by the one person who had sworn to protect them.

 

“He’s not been right for a while now, Jesse.”

 

“I know. Trust me, I... I know.”

 

Jesse felt his head drop, no longer able to witness Jonathan’s pain. His own fingers started to play with the hem of his scrub top. Jesse wished desperately that it could distract him from the conversation. Anything to stop the inevitable truth. He shouldn’t even be having this talk with anybody behind closed doors, let alone out in public, for all of the world to hear. They might’ve spoke in whispers, but Blackwatch was a land of spies; not all of them shared their sentiments, and listening to things meant for the darkness was their job. So was reporting to Gabriel. If Gabriel heard them...

 

“I don’t know what to tell you.” The conviction in Jesse’s voice burnt his own tongue. He rubbed at his aching throat. “Even before Rialto, something’s been off, but I really have no idea what’s going on.”

 

“Maybe you don’t. None of us do. The question is, what are you going to do? What are _we_ going to do?”

 

When Jesse looked up, finally tired of avoiding Jonathan’s gaze, he saw something he never expected to see. All those who had been in the room when he had barged in, no less than twenty-five, had surrounded the couch, and every single one of them stared so intently that Jesse feared he might burst into flames.

 

They were all watching him.

 

They were watching, waiting, _listening_ to him, looking at him with such a pensive dispair that Jesse felt his own heart shudder from within his chest. He felt the pain and the doubt and the _fear_ behind their eyes. He saw how tired they were, how lost. They were a reflection of how he saw himself.

 

Still, despite all that afflicted them, the look in which they gave Jesse could only be likened to how they watched Gabriel, or how they used to, anyways.

 

They were all waiting for Jesse to guide them, and Jesse had never been more afraid in his entire life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: wow I’m so glad people enjoy this! That’s nice
> 
> Also me: *violently sobbing* THeY LikE mY FiC iM CrYIng 
> 
> Y’all have been so GOOD TO ME! You’ve stuck with me until the very end and only partially judged my choices XD it’s been a good ride
> 
> In other news, I got fuckin destroyed by my own work. I’m such a wimp XD

The stars above Zürich were beautiful. It was a shame that Jesse had never truly noticed them up until now, but all the same, it was hard to appreciate their beauty while he was busy cursing the world.

 

Blackwatch was expecting him to lead. They had deemed Gabriel unfit, and without warning, the job had fallen to Jesse to direct others. This was a task he had never wanted. He was too broken for such a thing, too frightened that their lives would slip through his fingers like sand, disappearing into the earth with one wrong move. Surely they knew he wasn’t their best option. They could do better. Hell, why didn’t they ask Jack? The man was an actual commander - the _Strike Commander_. He could take Blackwatch under his wing, liquidate them into Overwatch as special forces or even just plain soldiers. It was better than watching their world catch fire from the sidelines.

 

For the third time that night, Jesse fished out another cigarette and took a deep, smothering inhale of smoke once it was lit, reveling in the way it made his lungs ache while whatever the hell was in them coursed through his veins. He had no doubts that he could get through his entire pack in one night. If his throat and lungs weren’t already trying to kill him for his stupidity, then he would’ve smoked a second pack as well. It’s not like he didn’t have more hidden in the general vicinity.

 

How much of a coward could he be? Everybody else was struggling to hold themselves together, and Jesse was up on the roof of the base, smoking his life away. To add to the pain, the answer he had given the others was hardly an answer at all; he asked for time to think. Like they even had that luxury. Jesse had bolted away as soon as he had told them that, and though his body begged him to return to the medical ward, he ignored it and headed up to the only spot where he felt at peace.

 

Warmth pricked at the edges of Jesse’s fingers. The cigarette had outlived its use, and so he snuffed it out and carelessly flicked it onto the ground, lighting up another with shaking hands as he leaned against the railing. The only thing he didn’t like about his smoking was how it clouded up the sky with every exhale. It took away the one glimpse of freedom that he was allowed to take. At least it didn’t cover the world below him, though.

 

Below his spot on the roof, Jesse could see the lights of the base burning like artificial stars, and if he looked hard enough, he could see people passing by the windows, making an appearance before fluttering away in flashes of blue and red. From up on his perch, everything looked so... peaceful.

 

“May I join you?”

 

It became much less so when Jesse nearly jumped over the rail from fear. He whipped himself around, metal pressing into his tender back as he turned to meet the one who had addressed him.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” It was nurse Hudson, smiling his tender, gentle smile as he held his hands up in surrender. “I just needed a break from all of the chaos. I’m sure you understand.”

 

Jesse did. He let his body relax as he motioned for Hudson to join him.

 

Hudson had always reminded Jesse of Gabriel in some ways; he was imposingly tall and broad, his strength emphasized by his uniform like Gabriel with his own tight clothing. Unlike Gabriel, Hudson was so soft and gentle that the dissonance between appearance and personality was almost humorous. That didn’t mean the man couldn’t fight, however. Jesse knew firsthand that Hudson was basically the first line of defense for the medical ward, but he was always so understanding and kind that he often didn’t need to resort to violence. No man seemed wiser than the good nurse.

 

“You look lost,” Hudson said. His voice was so soft that it was almost lost in the wind, and if Jesse hadn’t been so close, it might’ve gone unheard. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but... I’m here if you ever want to talk. I’ve been told that I’m a pretty good listener.”

 

Jesse huffed, taking a final drag before snuffing his current cigarette out. A wise man, indeed.

 

“How do I know you won’t say nothing to nobody?”

 

“Well, we could always fill out another client confidentiality form if you’d like.”

 

Though it sent him into a coughing fit, Jesse couldn’t stop the laughter that bubble from his aching body. He knew Hudson wouldn’t tell a soul. Still, the lighthearted atmosphere quickly dissipated as Jesse started to scratch at his throat. He still had Gabriel’s blood caked under his nails.

 

“I just- I don’t understand. Everything Reyes and I built, everything we did for Blackwatch, everything we made it out to be... It’s gone. All of it.” Jesse paused, and he desperately wished for another cigarette. “There’s nothing left for any of us, and we’re all so lost that we don’t even know which direction to turn.”

 

“Blackwatch did agree on one thing, though. Didn’t they?”

 

Jesse’s brows furrowed as he turned to look at Hudson. There could be no way that he was referring to his friends choosing him over Gabriel, right? That seemed to be what Hudson was implying. Either that, or he was leaving enough space between the lines that Jesse could make his own assumptions. It had the same effect regardless.

 

“They... they’re making a mistake,” Jesse murmured. “They said that they would follow me, but I can’t lead anybody. I’m not a commander. Hell, I’m not even sure what I’m going to do with myself, let alone with everybody else, and I just- I _can’t_.” 

 

Hudson seemed to consider Jesse’s words. He was silent, mulled everything over carefully as they both stared down at the base below. It was as bright as it always was. Deceptively so. There was so much darkness lurking underneath that Jesse believed it to be cruel to keep up such an innocent appearance. Not that the public really believed it anymore.

 

“I heard that the riots happening in Zürich are becoming violent. There are reports of firebombings, murders, and everything else. Protesters even blew up the hypertrain carrying soldiers.”

 

Hudson stopped. His fingers tapped quietly against the railing as if processing something, and Jesse was unsure if he even wanted to know what it was.

 

“I also heard that authorities are granting the city permission to use the old railroad system and a freight train to get families out of the danger zone. Said it was scheduled to be late Friday night when the protests were at a low point.” Hudson smiled kindly, knowingly, as he added, “I believe they said they would also make another trip since they expected to be full. The next round will have more room for a bigger crowd.”

 

Why was Hudson telling him this? It had nothing to do with what they were talking about, and while it was good to know what was going on outside of Overwatch, that didn’t seem particularly important at the moment. Jesse just wanted to know how to help his friends - how to help himself. It’s not like they were civilians who could hitch a ride and get the hell out out of Dodge. Now that everything was crumbling down, they had Blackwatch to take care of. They couldn’t abandon it.

 

A dark sense of dread started to pool in Jesse’s stomach. Technically, there _was_ no Blackwatch, not anymore. There was nothing to keep any of them from leaving, and it seemed the only thing that was actually stopping them was uncertainty. Whether it be to abandon ship or sink with it, they were waiting for orders, for action.

 

Now Jesse realized that there was one other option besides going down in flames at Gabriel’s side. It would be the final catalyst for decision, but only if Jesse led it.

 

It wasn’t until Hudson carefully took Jesse’s hands into his own that Jesse realized he had started trembling, and the way Hudson smiled at him sotenderly, so encouragingly, didn’t help the fact. Tears pricked Jesse’s eyes, blurring his vision as he tried to swallow the bitter truth. He now knew what he had to do - for everybody’s sake. He just didn’t know if he could follow through.

 

“Let’s get you healed up. We’re using biotic fields this time,” Hudson said, and as the man gently led him off the rooftop, Jesse couldn’t help but feel that this would be the last time he would ever see the stars above Zürich.

 

 

————

 

 

It was just a mission. That’s what Jesse kept telling himself. As he sat at the edge of his bed, hunched over as he stared at the bag just a few feet away, he repeated the phrase over and over again. It was just a mission. Just a mission.

 

Only moonlight streaming through the window broke through the darkness of the room, and from that, Jesse could see the place he had once called home. Everything was pristine; his bed was made perfectly, his clothing folded and tucked away with the exception of what he was currently wearing. He had traded his regular outfit for darkened civilian clothing, old training boots laced almost too tightly. They were made for running. The change stood out almost painfully against the background; so neat, so clean, but so utterly cold and lifeless. Jesse would never return to this place.

 

What little possessions he owned were stored into his bag. Everything related to Blackwatch had to be left behind, so he was left with very few things to take with him. The only things he had to his name were his hat, his serape, a fistful of money, and Peacekeeper (as much as Jesse hated it, he had to leave his beloved boots behind for a lack of space). He had his tablet on him as well, but he would get rid of it before he ever stepped off the base.

 

As Jesse slid the backpack over his shoulders, he couldn’t help but feel like the weight of it would break him in half. The burden he carried only grew heavier as he the cool metal of his dog tags brushed against his skin. If he kept them on, took them with him, then he would always have something to remind him of Blackwatch. To remind him of Gabriel.

 

With trembling, hesitant hands, Jesse pulled the tags from his neck, and though he intended to throw them on the bed, he merely stared down at them. They were the first true possession that he had ever been given. Gabriel had them made before Jesse even had a room, had slipped them around his neck and called him an soldier. They were his covenant with Gabriel. Against his better judgement, Jesse disentangled his fingers from the chain and placed the tags in his coat pocket, and with nothing left to pack or do, Jesse slowly slipped out the door. He made sure to leave it unlocked before he left.

 

As always, the halls were bathed in a fluorescent glow. Nobody was present. At such an ungodly hour in the night, technically already morning, Jesse knew that most everybody would be desperately trying to sleep. It would make things easier. He didn’t intend on saying goodbyes, didn’t discuss his plans with anyone, and while he knew it made him a coward, Jesse forced himself not to care. He let himself believe it was for the best, and it probably was. It just didn’t feel that way as he crept silently through the halls, making his way to one final stop.

 

The surveillance room.

 

As Jesse rounded the corner and spotted the doors, he felt his heart thrumming so aggressively in his chest that he was worried he might go into cardiac arrest. He knew he wouldn’t, but still.

 

There were always technicians milling about in the surveillance room. During the day, there were at least six of them to watch the cameras. For the night shift, however, when the base was at ease, the numbers dwindled down to two or three, the max having been four at one point. As Jesse peered into the room, he could see that there were currently two; one was spooning out blackened grounds into a shitty old coffee maker, and the other had his head tipped back over the chair, occasionally giving an abrupt, forceful snore.

 

Perfect.

 

Jesse was suddenly grateful that Blackwatch was a covert operation, and that he had been trained accordingly. With silent steps, he crouched down and carefully slipped through the cracked doors, holding his breath as he slowly, _slowly_ , inched forward. He could see a large panel of screens that projected images from all of the security cameras on base. Below it were numerous controls and more buttons and switches than Jesse cared to count, followed by wires that led off to the side, going into some ungodly piece of machinery that Jesse understood but couldn’t actually name. He knew what he was looking for, and so he slid forward until he was right next to the sleeping technician.

 

Jesse cast a glance towards the other person in the room. She was hunched over the coffee machine, waiting patiently for it to brew while tapping a finger against her cup. Reassured that she was still distracted, Jesse got to work. He took the bag off of his back and pulled out the tablet. Then, as swiftly as possible, he started to dig through the large bundles of wire until he found the proper one. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he had done this; it used to be his favorite part of any mission. With deft hands, Jesse unplugged the wire from the data storage unit and connected it to his tablet, and his fingers moved quickly through the familiar bombardment of information.

 

Jesse grimaced as a prompt for a higher-up’s clearance code appeared; he always knew that stealing Gabriel’s might come in handy one day. He had just really hoped he would never have to use it. As soon as he typed in the lengthy string of numbers, he forced the system to override its instructions. A brief, flashing warning appeared on his screen with a single question.

 

_‘Initiate System Shutdown?’_

 

Jesse cast one more glance around the room to make sure the technicians were still unaware. Once he was certain that they were, he initiated the shutdown and watched as a timer started to tick down. His distraction was set. He had ten minutes to run.

 

Jesse slid the tablet under the small gap between the data storage system and the floor, and as soon as it was hidden, he slipped his bag onto his shoulders and crept through the room, back out through the door. Just in time, too. As he moved to round the corner into the next hallway, Jesse heard the soft ping of the coffee maker go off.

 

With that done, Jesse quickly walked back the way he came. Thank God the halls were still empty. He didn’t want to think about all the times when they weren’t, when he and his friends would coming running down them after a successful mission, ready to celebrate the blood that still coursed through their veins, the hearts that still beat in their chests. There were many times that Jesse didn’t want to remember, because if he did, he would never have the courage to leave.

 

Finally he rounded the last corner to head back to his room. If only he could rest; the bag on his shoulders was an unbearable weight, despite its small size. Still, he was so close to freedom, so close to never having to kill again, never having to repeat the mistakes of the past because he was ordered to. If he could just-

 

“Jesse?”

 

Jesse’s hand froze on the door handle. His body tensed, unwilling to move as he shut his eyes.

 

Of fucking _course_.

 

Slowly, very slowly, Jesse let his hand drop from the handle, and he turned around to face the man who had addressed him.

 

Gabriel stood silently in the middle of the hall. He had on the clothes that he always wore to bed, when he was indecisive about whether he wanted to sleep or do his paperwork but wanted comfort either way. By the stack of folders he carried in one hand, coffee in the other, it seemed he had chosen the latter.

 

Under the fluorescent lighting, Gabriel seemed almost ill; his skin had an unhealthy pallor, which was only emphasized by the bags under his eyes. And his eyes... Jesse had remembered how they had changed. He had wanted to chalk it up to being oxygen deprived, he had tried to rationalize it, but he had seen them alter themselves beyond a shadow of a doubt.

 

Now they were how he liked to remembered them; soft, dark, but somehow aching in a way that seemed never-ending.

 

“I was just...” Jesse paused. He felt shame rise in his chest as he looked away. “I was just going into town. Forgot something in my room.”

 

“Jesse, there are riots in town, you need to stay inside where it’s safe. You’re off duty, anyways.”

 

He cursed himself for forming such an unconvincing lie, one that he knew Gabriel didn’t believe anymore than he himself did. Jesse let his body shrivel up as footsteps came closer to him. The only thing he could do to hide his trembling was cram his hands in his pockets, his fingers automatically finding his dog tags to soothe him over.

 

“Let’s... talk. Okay?”

 

He could only mutely nod at Gabriel’s request. He let the man open the door and nudge him into the dark room, and once there, he carefully positioned himself on the edge of his bed while Gabriel sat his things down. He didn’t want to say he was ready to bolt, but he couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t.

 

He nearly jumped and started running when Gabriel sat down beside him. They were a respectful distance apparent, they always were nowadays, but somehow the space between them felt suffocating. It wasn’t like how they used to be. Nothing was. But for now, Jesse let the endless rift consume them.

 

“What were you actually doing, Jesse? Where were you really going?”

 

Though already frightened, Gabriel’s voice didn’t make him any more skittish like he thought it might. No, the man sounded much too tired, too exhausted, to be all that scary. Jesse _was_ afraid, however, that it could change in the blink of an eye, just like before, but he chose not to think about that. Instead, he focused on what he had been asked and how he was going to answer it. He was running out of time regardless.

 

“I think you know,” he muttered. His hands started to fidget with his tags as he stared down at his boots. “It’s... you know it’s beyond complicated now. Blackwatch is on its last leg and it’s going down fast. People are scared out of their minds, Gabe, and I’m one of them. We’re lost.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gabriel bury his face in his hands, his body crumpling as he did so. An unfamiliar position for him. Jesse removed one of his own hands from his pockets to scratch at his bruised throat. This man beside him was not a man of needless violence, a man who would strangle the life out of his partner or blindly destroy the fragile world he had created. This man was Gabriel, and he was just that; a man.

 

He was scared, too.

 

Jesse felt his chest aching as he looked at Gabriel. The hero of the Omnic Crisis, the commander of Blackwatch, but he was none of those things anymore. Before he could lose his courage, Jesse hesitantly inched closer to the man until their thighs touched, and his heart twisted viciously when he heard the faint, shuddering breaths coming from beside him. Gabriel was _crying_.

 

Just as Jesse was about to reach out, to comfort, arms were suddenly around his shoulders. His body went completely rigid. It took him a few moments to realize that this was not another attack, nor was it anything truly forceful. He could push Gabriel away if he really wanted to. But he didn’t. Instead, he let his body relax into the desperate embrace, and when Gabriel began to hesitantly draw back (no doubt he had felt Jesse freeze up), Jesse gently pulled him back in. He felt warm tears drip onto his discolored neck, but he simply let Gabriel cry.

 

“You could come with me. If anybody can make it, it’s us,” Jesse murmured. He allowed Gabriel to sit back up, thumbing away the tears that littered the man’s cheeks when they were face-to-face. “I’ve got my parents’ old ranch, remember? We can go there, lay low, build whatever life we want. Just you and me, Gabe, just like it’s always been.”

 

“I... I can’t.”

 

Deep down in his heart, Jesse already knew he would get that answer. It still didn’t hurt any less. He felt his own tears start to well up as an airy laugh escaped his lips, and he smiled kindly at the man he had grown to love. For years, he had gone between angrily desperate and desperately angry, chasing after the Gabriel that seemed to vanish as soon as Moira came with her dangerous persuasions. He had missed the man Gabriel once was, but now that man was here. He was here, he was present, and now he would be all alone.

 

Jesse truly believed that, in all of his life, he would never have to make a more agonizing decision than to leave Gabriel behind.

 

Without warning, the alarm clock beside Jesse’s bed starter to flicker, and not even a second later, it went out completely. The constant electrical hum of mechanical life disappeared along with it, and Jesse knew that his time was up. The entire base was now bathed in darkness; no cameras or security mechanisms could stop him from running.

 

Beside him, Gabriel laughed, _truly_ laughed, in a way he hadn’t in a very long time.

 

“Clever boy,” he praised. He smiled, the moonlight streaming through the window reflecting in his eyes. “You always were a smart man, Jesse. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

 

Jesse stood on trembling legs as he looked down at Gabriel; the only thing keeping him tethered to this place. He didn’t want to leave. His entire body shook as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his beloved dog tags, and it was with immense pain that he pressed them into Gabriel’s hand, making the fingers curl around them before moving to pull away. The man stopped him. While he slipped Jesse’s tags around his neck, he stood as well, making sure to be careful as he pulled his own over his head.

 

Jesse closed his eyes as he felt the foreign chain settle where his own had been. Familiar chapped lips pressed against his forehead, and for the first time that night, Jesse let the tears he had been holding fall freely.

 

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself when I’m not around to do it,” Gabriel said, “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

 

“I promise.” Jesse’s lips quivered, his breath shuddering as his heart ached so terribly he feared for his life. “I love you, Gabe.”

 

Gabriel only smiled, giving his hair a gentle ruffle like he used to do.

 

“I love you, too, Jesse. Now go, get out of here before you change your mind.”

 

They both exchanged fragile laughs at the painful truth, but Jesse obediently followed Gabriel’s final order. He disentangled himself and made his way to the window, and his body protested every single movement in a way that made him believe he might actually fall to his death if he wasn’t careful. He hesitantly hopped onto the ledge as he stared off into the distance, past the base he had always called home. He would never be able to return. He was just beginning his descent when he heard Gabriel’s voice behind him.

 

“And Jesse?” He turned, looking back at Gabriel for the very last time. “Let’s meet again one day, in a better life.”

 

“...In a better life.”

 

The moment Jesse’s feet hit the ground, chest aching as he held onto tags that weren’t his own, he ran. He ran straight into the darkness and didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all she wrote, folks! I really hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I have! Side note: I edited this as a draft saved here and it didn’t seem to save some changes? But whatever, I’ll try and fix it XD
> 
> Also, I honestly wrote this ending three times. The first time was more violent, the second actually involved sex, but I didn’t really like either of them. I felt that the third time, this final time, was truly best. It felt more intimate than the others. It felt like a true ending, and I just liked it a lot. You know?
> 
> BUT SERIOUSNESS ASIDE! I love y’all, and let’s see where we go after this! XD
> 
> ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

**Author's Note:**

> Poor bb. It gets ‘better’ I swear! As always, point out my grammar and spelling and shit if you see it XD
> 
> Also, this took a lot of research actually??? Like it’s probably still mediocre at best but damn, being in seclusion can fuck a man up XD
> 
> To add to my pain, my proofreading intensifies 1000% whenever I post things, so I’ll be reading this bitch over and trying to fix things until I’m sick and tired of it. Eh, c’est la vie!


End file.
